Ceaseless Devotion || Garroth Ro'meave x OC

3: Prison ain't fun and I never even got my cake...

It had been many hours since Cecelia had been knocked unconscious, leaving her feeling confused and disoriented. When she slowly regained consciousness, although her vision had been blurred it wasn't hard for her to realise she'd been in some form of prison, likely a guard station given this village's size.

When she attempted to raise her hands to re-adjust the dented helmet she'd still been wearing she was quickly stopped by the thick rope that bound her wrists together. However, the rope had been the least of her concerns as she caught sight of a guard a meter or two beyond the bars.

He stood against the wall that divided the prison from the front part of the station. Dishevelled appearance and scruffy beard aside, he wore a stone-cold glare that bore into Cecelia's skin in a rather uncomfortable way. His eyes had heavy bags hanging beneath them and the guard seemed overall exhausted, this led to Cecelia assuming that he had been keeping guard of her all night.

"Tied up and in a cell?! You must really hate me, huh?" Cecelia laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood, shuffling her body to sit in a less painful position. The guard seemed unimpressed, eyes narrowing at her.

Cecelia remained still as a long silence came between the stoic guard and her.

"Sooo," She dragged out the word, looking around the cell. "Are you gonna tell me why I'm here, orrr??"

The guard crossed his arms over his chest, switching his weight onto both feet as he pushed himself away from the stone brick wall.

"Who are you O'khasian... And why have you come here??" The guard finally spoke, his voice low and gruff. He spat out the O'khasian name like it was poison on his tongue.

Cecelia took it that whatever village she'd stumbled across wasn't too fond of O'khasis and its track record... However, she could relate to them on that front, she wasn't too fond of O'khasis herself.

"My name is Cecelia, and where exactly is 'here'?" She replied. Cecelia was in no place to be speaking back to a guard that currently had her imprisoned, but she needed to know where she was. If Cecelia was able to play her cards right then she'd hopefully be leaving this cell unscathed.

The guard, however, had been taken aback by her response, visibly stumbling in place.

"Shouldn't you know that?" He asked, lowering his hands to rest gently on his belt. "You were sent here."

Cecelia sighed, expecting a response along those lines. When most people see a guard wearing O'khasian armour wandering outside of O'khasian walls, it's normal for people to expect them to be on the job. However, the guard before Cecelia couldn't be further from the truth.

"No, I came here of my own accord," She explained. The guard before her let out an unconvinced scoff.

"Care to explain the O'khasian armour then?" He asked, letting out a smug grin.

"Oh, right! Probably should explain that..." Cecelia muttered, looking down upon her own uniform with a chuckle.

"I'm not a guard of O'khasis," She explained. "Well- not anymore, I resigned recently."

Cecelia had hoped that the explanation she had provided would be enough to sway the guard. After all, it wasn't as if she'd been lying.

The guard scoffed once more, stepping closer to the cell gates. His overall height had loomed over Cecelia as she knelt on the stone flooring, arms restrained behind her.

"Okay then," The guard began, "You're being held in the cells of Phoenix Drop." He spoke, answering the previous question.

Cecelia could feel a light bubbling within, making her feel as if she were weightless for that moment. After years of waiting and hours of travelling, she'd finally made it.